


Under Siege

by Listen_Chuckles



Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 16:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Listen_Chuckles/pseuds/Listen_Chuckles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Under Siege is a great film. Who knew it could mean so much though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be for Gallavich week, day 7, Future Gallavich, but I started writing it and realised it'd probably be better off as something bigger so this the prologue to something... I have a brief idea as to where this is going to go.
> 
> Feel free to comment, and don't just be nice, kick my ass into shape, i'm not used to this :)))

Mickey had never changed. His life had changed, but he hadn't. Which is why he sat slouched on his couch one foot on the edge, knee pulled up to his chest his arm dangling off the raised limb, a can of beer clutched in it at an angle. Under Siege played on the TV, he did have every intention of watching it being one of his favourite films and all (that ponytail still did it for him,) but now the film was more to him than just a badass guy. It had other memories. It always brought back memories of the sleepover gone wrong, well, it hadn't really gone wrong until the morning after, the actual sleepover had been perfect.

He'd sat exactly like this at Ian's side practically touching each other even though there was plenty of room to spread out - just, neither of them wanted to. The sly glances, chewed lips, stifled laughs had all come to their peak, tension mounted so high that Ian had just pushed Mickeys shoulder making sure he got the hint. Mickey had knelt on the couch his torso doubled over the back, dick pressed into the cushions, hands grabbing onto anything he could find while Ian had taken him mercilessly. To this day it was one of his favourite memories, even though they had made so many more, it was just a shame Terry had ruined it all the morning after.

Terry had got his for that, and everything else he'd done to his kids over the years. He would always be a lonely old man. All his kids had left him behind, not even wanting to recognise him as their father, all leaving him with a broken face before they left, one at a time. Mickey had been the last to leave, he'd waited for Ian, who ended up on his ass back on south side having been kicked out of the army. He'd been a wreck after that, thought his life wasn't worth living, his dreams dashed and Mickey hated it. Secretly he'd lit up when he heard Ian was back, trying to hide it from the 'wife' of his, he'd wanted to run over to the Gallaghers and start the ball rolling again but then he saw Ian and felt guilty, so guilty. He couldn't be happy about it, not when Ian was so obviously broken.

It hadn't taken long after the wedding for Svetlana to figure out that Mickey didn't exactly want her, sure they fucked, he was a guy and he woke up with wood sometimes, she was there and Terry needed appeasing so he made sure the whole house knew what they were doing. Her being pregnant, the reason they married, had actually all be set up by Terry. She'd been paid to say she was pregnant. Deep down all things considered, Mickey was actually pretty sad about it, he'd spent over a month mulling it over in this head, even when he'd be fighting with Ian before he'd gone away he was thinking about it and he'd come to the conclusion that maybe a kid wouldn't be so bad for him. Sure, he was a major dick at times, but a kid would force him to start being... lawful. Get him on the straight and narrow, someone small he could love, like practice. But it wasn't to happen, call it food for thought. Maybe later. Svetlana knew what she was there for though, it only took her about a month before she found someone new who she actually enjoyed being with, so gradually, the Milkovich household saw less and less of her until eventually she just never came back, 6 months later and divorce papers dropped on the doorstep signed by her and more than willingly signed by him.

It had been up to Fiona and him to put Ian back together. It had meant Mickey having to grow a pair and telling Fiona everything, simultaneously pleading with her for it to go no further, Terry wasn't going to know that the minute Ian had come back Mickey was determined to go back to the way things were before. She swore. She accepted Mickey, and for some reason something inside Mickey squirmed, in a good way, Fiona hugged him which made him nothing less than uncomfortable, that first time anyway. Over the years he's come to accept it, but together with a little help from Debbie, Carl and Lip, they'd help to put Ian back to his normal self, still scarred, but that was nothing they could fix. 

He'd gone over a year without having Ian in the way he'd wanted him so the night they were sat watching Under Siege 2 and Ian had jumped on him and forced himself onto Mickeys mouth was bliss. That to this day was one of Ians favourite nights, purely for what Mickey had let slip, he knew he'd have to relish it because it would be a cold day in hell before he heard it again, so he committed it to memory and every so often he'd watch it over in his mind to keep himself warm. They'd been in the exact same position as the last time they'd done this, Mickey fumbling blindly behind himself to grab at Ians hip to pull him closer, drag him deeper, a feeling he'd needed for so long, he didn't even realise he was talking at first;

“Fuck, man I missed you” he drawled through pants and groans. Ian, always the quiet one just grunted and gripped Mickeys hip that little bit tighter, his thrust losing stride a little. Mickey smirked a little at that.  
“Oh fuck, Gallagher I love you, you know that right?” his hand tightened on the material of the chair beneath him, Ian didn't say a word again only dropped his head down onto Mickeys shoulder blade pressing himself closer. It didn't allow for much movement but it was fucking hot anyway and the friction took them to the edge in no time at all. Ian stayed stuck to him, head still against his shoulder blade until both their breathing had calmed down mumbling “I know” before planting a kiss there and freeing himself to cool down.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit more backstory...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've come to the conclusion that these first few chapters are going to be a load of back story but if you can bear with me I actually have something decent written out for whatever the hell this is going to be.
> 
> I hope this isn't too boring/bad.
> 
> Kick my ass for it if it is.

Mickey was so wrapped up in his own thoughts and memories he barely heard Ian come through the door, it slammed behind him when he kicked it, his hands full of food from the near by take away. He made his way to the kitchen, noticing the credits rolling on the TV screen, the all too familiar music playing but no acknowledgement from Mickey.

 

“Started without me, huh?” He shouted from the kitchen hearing the surprise in Mickeys voice when he answered.

 

“Uh, yeah, we can watch Double Impact while we eat though.” He appeared in the doorway, compact body leant against the frame.

 

“You didn't hear me come in?” Ians head cocked to one side and stopped what he was doing leaving his hand floating in mid air having just pulled a tray out of the bag. 

 

“Nah, I was thinking.” 

 

“Careful, you could hurt yourself.” 

 

“Fuck you!” Mickey shouted, eyebrows raised, small smirk playing round his lips and a middle finger in the air. 

 

“Don't just stand there, get a plate.” 

 

Mickey sauntered into the kitchen making sure to throw himself into Ians shoulder as he walked by him. 

 

“Fuckface” Ian muttered.

 

Mickey drained the can he'd been holding looking at Ian over the rim incredulously.

 

“What are we, like fifteen?” 

 

“You started it. Never could take a joke, Mickey.” Ian had that smug look on his face, the one he wore when he thought he'd won, it never failed to work Mickey two ways; pissed off and horny, it was a drug.

 

“Bitch,” Mickey turned his back to Ian, grabbing plates out of the cupboard and refusing to acknowledge the sarcastic reply, a mimic of his previous line. They stood side by side at the counter putting food on plates, sealing up the leftovers, making trips back and forth to the fridge, it was something that had become somewhat of a ritual. 

 

One night, whenever felt right to take time out from whatever the hell else was going on, one night of domestic bliss, neither had said it out loud that it was a thing, but they both knew it was there for whenever they needed it. One of them only had to name a day and in most cases, it was done. It was also a given that they both enjoyed it, there was no reason why; they watched the same films every time, sat in the same way, talked about the same things but something about it felt right. 

 

“Y'know-” Mickey piped up while he chewed loudly “-we should watch other films sometime” He pointed his fork at the DVD player.

 

“Yeah? Like what?” 

 

“I dunno, s'methin' different,” Mickey shrugged.

 

“You're gonna have to be more specific, I mean, living in a house full of kids constantly means one of my favourite films is Grease, want me to go back home and borrow the DVD?”

 

“You're a fucking faggot, Gallagher.” He replied pointedly, throwing a handful of fries into Ians lap.

 

Ian cocked his head to the side rolling his eyes at the man next to him, a crooked smirk plastered on his face. 

 

Mickey jumped up to take his empty plate back into the kitchen. He could navigate this flat with his eyes closed now, it had taken him months to adapt, it was strange living somewhere that was actually _clean,_ it was quiet, there were no doors slamming all the time, his bedroom was actually his own – with the exception of Ian staying in there to – and so it wasn't awkward when either one of them had to use the bathroom. For the first few months after they'd moved in he'd referred to it as 'the flat' he wasn't comfortable with it yet, and then he started to make things suit him, a few darker Milkovich touches around the place, and slowly but surely it became home. It had been an accident really the first time he'd called it that taking both men by surprise. They were out at the time, Mickey complaining there were too many bitches around the place, his next line 'can we go home?' Ians eyebrows had shot up, to him it had been home since he moved there but he knew Mickey had still been learning how to cope. Ian had wanted to question him about it but decided against pushing him, when they actually got 'home' he saw how Mickey instantly relaxed as soon as he stepped through the door. It was a comforting sight for Ian. 

 

Mickey had been 'learning' how to deal with his emotions in his own little way. He was never going to be sappy or soft, he'd been through too much for that to happen but since laying into his dad, beating him senseless, taking out every beating Mickey had ever wrongfully got from him on him, Mickey had calmed down considerably. He'd put his demons to rest and it showed. 

 

Ian knew Mickey was never going to profess his love for him every day but it was there between them all the time, completely unspoken. It was there when Mickey got high and told Ian some of the darker shit he kept inside, like some of the worst times he'd had living in the Milkovich house; his dad knocking him unconscious from the age of five, the way Mandy was treated and how he could never stop it. It was times like these Ian wished all the abuse had made Mickey go the other way, clingy and needy, it was times like these Ian desperately wanted to pull Mickey onto his lap and hold him so tightly he'd cut off their airways, he wanted to hold his head against his chest and tug gently at the hairs on the back of his head and tell him everything was going to be okay and his dad was gone now, dead to everyone, but he couldn't, because Terry had created a monster. A monster born out of violence, oppression and loneliness and nothing would ever be able to change that because all those things had been physically beaten into Mickey and those scars would always be there, raised and raw, stinging every time they're prodded. It made Ian sick to his stomach that Mickey would never, could never be comfortable in his own skin because of the way he was raised. Mickey would always be the tough guy but to Ian he was the vulnerable one. 


	3. Lip Knew?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More backstory... Ian's recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe slightly OOC but I don't care i'm a bit in love with this chapter ooookay.
> 
> Hope y'all like it

Ian had been sleeping a few months after coming back from the army, it had taken him a while to actually start sleeping properly again. He had no idea what was going on around him usually, he knew people were coming into the room to speak to him or bring him something, he always recognised Debs voice, he wouldn't speak back but he'd sit and stare at her as if counting the freckles on her face, he tried to understand what she said, what Lip said, Fiona, but nothing sunk in, something in his head had broke and he couldn't get to grips with anything, his life lay in ruins before him and nothing he could see anywhere in his future was going to put it back together. But then another familiar voice started to drift into his conscience; mainly when he was asleep when the voice would just become part of his dream, he could never see the face too clearly, he knew it was important to him though. The voice was an easy drawl and Ian always remembered it from his dream, it always rang around his head for hours afterwards but he could never place it. But this one time Ian was awake, he'd just woken up not getting round to opening his eyes yet and the voice started talking. It came from the edge of his bed where Ian could feel it sink down, and it was stumbling, quiet and quick, he swore a lot, Ian knew he needed to listen, take in what he was saying. He willed himself to listen. White noise becoming strange sounds becoming letters becoming words, sentences. 

"I don't know what the fuck happened to you man but you need to come back, I missed ya. Fuckin' viagroid's been askin' about you too, don't know what the fuck he wants, didn't he get the fucking message last time, just 'cause he pulled a bullet out my asscheek don't mean i'm gonna let him have what's mine, fuck him." 

The voice was silent then and Ian let the letters join up in his head, let them form words and for the first time they made sense, they sank in and he was hit by all the words everyone had said to him in the time he's been... away. It shook him to his core, how much people seemed to care, it made his stomach ache and writhe, his family cared about him, the boy at the bottom of his bed cared about him, weirdly, who was he? With his eyes still closed and his brain functioning properly he remembered the voice and put the face to it, dark hair, dirty patches staining his face, perpetually chapped lipped, the lower one dragged in between the boys teeth getting chewed at unrelentingly. 

“I told you not to fuckin' go, Gallagher. Told you. Alright so I didn't say it properly but you knew, you knew what I meant and now look at you, you've barely been out of your bed for three weeks. What the fuck, Gallagher?” 

Ian heard the boys head turn, felt eyes scanning his body, he didn't even need to see to know what he was doing, he just knew. Mickey. That was his name. He didn't hesitate then. In one fluid motion Ian managed to pick himself up and throw himself at Mickey who was unprepared but somehow managed to stay on the small perch he'd taken on the edge of the bed. Mickey went completely rigid as Ian practically sat on his lap, wrapped his arms round his neck and clung to him like he was Ians only lifeline. Ian relaxed instantly, not even bothering to see if Mickey wanted it or not, he just sighed deeply and tucked his face into Mickeys neck. Mickey stayed completely rigid, his arms out to the side looking down at Ian like he was about to catch something deadly off him but Ian showed no signs of moving, no signs of letting go so Mickey had to deal with it. Ian felt Mickeys arms relax around him moving around him and embracing him, the weight comforting, and then Mickey actually sighed, his chest expanding and pressing into Ian, a heat he'd never really experienced with Mickey but felt like he had missed it all the same. Neither of them realised how comfortable they really were in this almost forbidden position. Mickey used his legs to push back further onto the bed pulling Ian with him and lying down. Being used as a pillow, a comforter, was definitely a new sensation for Mickey but he couldn't say he wasn't enjoying it because he was, too much. Ians weight draped across him, heavy and warm, heartbeat steady and slowing down to a slow pound he could feel it in his own chest, Ian fell into sleep and Mickey wasn't far behind. 

Ian woke first and he felt different, his mind was clear like it hadn't been in weeks, there were no voices punishing him, nothing screaming that he was a fuck up. He was warm too, two arms wrapped round him tightly and a leg in between his own slightly curled round his knee. He lifted his head up blinking away the mist of sleep in his eyes to see Mickey underneath him, stirring now he felt movement on top of him. He stared down at him, his expression blank just blinking.

"Mickey?" His voice was rough, cracked and brittle through sleep and lack of use. 

Mickey lifted his arms to rub at his eyes cracking one of them open slowly getting accustomed to the light. 

"Gallagher?" He lifted his head and looked down at the mess of bodies on the bed, tangled together like headphone wires only bigger and less flexible then threw his head back down on the pillow groaning. 

"Not a fucking word." He moaned at Ian, a hand finding the younger boys jaw only to punch it gently. Ian breathed out a laugh and flopped back down, his face landing in the pillow below Mickey in the space between his shoulder and his neck. 

"I 'unt 'anna muuf" Came the muffled reply.

"What?" Ian just turned his head into Mickeys neck.

"I don't wanna move." He said again, clearer this time. 

"Nah, but you gotta. c'mon, get up," Mickey started to wriggle his way out from under Ian, his body feeling the colder air instantly. He stretched as he went, blood pounding in his ears as he did. 

"C'mon Gallagher, get the fuck up." He couldn't quite get his torso out from under the other boys weight. 

"Alright." Ian huffed crawling his way up slowly before he got pushed off like he knew he would have done eventually. 

"You heard me, huh?" Mickey asked, his voice still sleep ridden.

"Heard what?"

"What I said - before."

"Yeah, first thing i've heard in weeks." 

"How come?"

"I dunno, recognised your voice, heard words instead of sounds." Ians eyes flicked up to Mickeys face, judging his reaction. They were both wary, this being the first conversation they'd had since the days after the wedding, it had left scars on both of them, scars that couldn't be seen but only felt, like a lump under the skin. 

"You didn't recognise Fiona. Or Lip?" Mickey was genuinely curious. What was so special about his voice that would bring Ian out of such a strong reverie that he'd been in for weeks, a waking coma so to speak. 

"I could see Deb, I couldn't tell what she was saying but I recognised her, I don't know what happened. I think it was just my body dealing with depression in it's own way, I shut off. I must get it from Monica."

"Fiona knows." Mickey was talking before he knew what he was saying. 

"Knows what?" Ian lifted his head up again. 

"Everything. I told her everything she wanted to know, us, my dad, everything."  
Mickey almost felt guilty but he also knew how accepting she was of everything, he could almost be jealous, but he really had no need to feel guilty.

"You did? Not Lip?"

"Lip knew?" 

"Lip knew."


	4. Wanna move out?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian gets in trouble with Fiona and he has an idea, (Still Backstory)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter of backstory, I promise. 
> 
> Hope it's okay. 
> 
> Kick me if it isn't.

Ian had managed to make it up to everyone having upped and left, Fiona had been beyond pissed when he'd finally come to his senses. Him and Mickey had come downstairs not long after they'd woken up and before he knew it Mickey had been near enough picked up and thrown through the door by Fiona because her and her brother needed 'one hell of a chat.' Ian physically grimaced when Fiona turned from the door, the look on her face said all he needed to know, she wasn't gonna take any shit. Two long strides later and Fiona had slapped him so hard he thought his head might spin round then in the next breath she was hugging him, like she'd never let go. 

"You're an idiot."She pulled him back from the hug both hands on his shoulders. "You better start grovelling and explain yourself, fast."

He had, he apologised profusely, over and over, he told her everything; how they found him out, what they'd called him, what they'd done to him, Fiona listened attentive, sending everyone out of the room even giving Veronica her marching orders when she waltzed through he door shouting obscenities. When he was done she hugged him again, holding him tight for several seconds.

"Maybe it's for the best, huh," sympathy weaved it's way into her voice. "You're needed here, to protect your big sister when she gets into trouble. And Debbie. Debbie is gonna need you at some point, promise me you'll never do that again, you could have died Ian, what would we have done then, huh? I've already lost Jimmy I don't need to lose you too, okay."

Ian could do nothing but nod. 

"So, Mickey Milkovich? When did you plan on telling me about that?" She smirked at him. Ian went pink to the tips of his ears. 

"I love him, Fee" He couldn't look at her so he picked at his combats instead. It may of been stupid but falling in love with someone like Mickey Milkovich just wasn't something you did, a boy with that track record and he knew Fiona wouldn't judge him and at the same time he feared she would.

"Hey," She pulled his chin up to look at her. "It's okay, it's okay, just... just stay safe, okay?" That made Ian smile.

"That's kinda hard with him, y'know?" A lop-sided smile graced his face.

"Yeah, I do, that's why i'm saying it. What is it that's so attractive about that family, I don't get it. Lip and Mandy, you and Mickey, what next, god please don't tell me there are boys Debs age in that house, I cannot deal with that!" 

"They act bad but, that's just their dad. They all hate him."

"You stay away from him." Fiona warned. "I mean it, one bruise and I swear to god I will stop you seeing Mickey myself." Ian smiled. 

"You're not my mom."

"No, but I might as well be, and after what you did, I own your ass right now."

"Nobody owns my ass, thank you very much."

"Oh my god, I do not need to know that my little brother is a top, no, stop it right there."

Ian smirked not saying anything else, just wandering out of the door to find Mickey and apologise for his sisters behaviour. 

 

Ian managed to sweet talk Linda into giving him his job back with the promise of working extra hours for less for a month, he wasn't happy about it, but if that's what it took. He took extra jobs where he could for the extra money giving that to Fiona for his upkeep. He intended to move out, he didn't know when or how much it was gonna cost but he needed to move out, Lip had already gone having taken the plunge at MIT, Liam and Carl were growing up fast and Ian felt there was just no room for him anymore.

He saved everything he had over three years, keeping it stashed away from meddling hands, keeping a mental note of how much was in there. Whenever he managed to get on the internet he'd look for a flat for himself, but then he realised 'himself,' 'myself' sounded lonely. Through some absolute miracle Mickey and his 'thing' had carried on, with Terry in prison at the time and hardly anyone left in the Milkovich house, Mickey and he had free reign of the house which meant they had explored each other a lot more, maybe unknowingly to Mickey, but Ian had drank in every second and deep down he knew Mickey had. 

The circumstances were unfortunate for Mandy, she was fine with what was going on with Ian and Mickey, in fact she was thrilled. Since her and Ian had become best friends he'd almost turned into another brother but one that loved her outwardly rather than one that showed their affection in the form of a nipple twister, but walking in on her best friend doing unhallowed things to her brothers ass over the mid-cycle washing machine was not something she needed to see, now or ever, and yet she'd seen it. In High Definition, Technicolour with 5.1 Surround Sound to boot. 

"OH FUCKING GOD DO YOU NOT HAVE A BEDROOM FOR THAT?" She shouted as she walked in the room and walked back out again swearing loudly for the whole estate to hear, she could hear Ian laughing as she did, her brother whining because Ian had stopped. It took them an hour to convince her to come back in. 

"I don't wanna even look at you two right now, give me some warning the next time you wanna do that in public area, jesus christ, I won't come back for a week." she slammed her bedroom door in their faces. It was then Ian had the idea.

"Hey Mick," he paused, a little nervous, "wanna move out?"

Mickey looked at him like he had two heads, cigarette casually hanging out of his mouth.

"How the fuck do you expect me to do that? Do I look like I got any money? Don't ask stupid fucking questions."

"I never asked if you had any money, I asked if you wanted to move out." Mickey had become confused more than anything.

"I'd sell a fucking kidney to get outta this shithole."

"Lets do it then?" 

"Did you not hear a word I just said?"

"Did it sound like I cared? I have enough money till you get a job."

"Me and you?" Mickeys eyes were practically on stalks. 

"Yeah."

"Livin' together?"

"Yeah."

"You're fuckin' serious?"

Ian didn't even reply, cocked his head to the side with the most serious look he could muster whilst wanting to laugh at Mickeys utter disbelief. 

"Fuck man, whatever, it's your shit."


	5. I'm Terrified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey isn't sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of back story. Huzzah!
> 
> The next chapter is my longest yet and it's... fun to say the least. So read this, a comment or two would be appreciated and i'll get the new one up asap :')

"Okay, so, we're getting out of Southside." Ian sprang on Mickey one night while they wandered around, cigarettes hanging out of mouths, cans in hand. 

"We are?"

"Yeah, we are, I found a flat. It's two bedroom I have enough to pay off the deposit and a couple months rent but it's gonna need some stuff so i'll have to hold back on the rent a little. It's gonna take some work to keep up the payments but we can get by." Ians eyes flicked over to Mickey who failed to conceal a grin, looking down at his feet and scuffing his shoes as he walked.

"Do we really need 2 bedrooms? C'mon, I can't see us using it." Mickey refused to make eye contact with the taller boy as he said it, it meant a little bit too much and he knew it. They came to a derelict building and took shelter from the stifling air outside, finding little relief. Mickey leant against a wall Ian stood at his side glancing down at the smaller boy. 

"What if Mandy needs a break one time or even Lip, Carl and Deb could stay sometime, it'll be good, we can afford it. I'll find a job before we move there, i'll get paid more round there anyway."

"Well don't fuckin' blame me when it goes wrong, you know i'm fucked."

"Look, all you gotta do is get a job and pay your rent, easy."

"Yeah, yeah, easy fucking peasy, I get it, now are you gonna get on me or what? Jesus, you fuckin' talk too much." Mickey was bent over before he could finish the sentence, hands clasping at the put through window.

 

Mickey chewed at his nails vigourously. It was something he did pretty much constantly, even when there was no nail left and he'd be down to tearing chunks of skin from down the side, he'd still be chewing. Ian had also learned to associate some of it to nerves. Ian knew Mickey hated showing that he was nervous, he hated that he'd shown Ian that side of him enough for the redhead to know what it was. He bit his nails with more vigour, his face would contort a certain way, his footfalls would be heavy and he'd usually end up getting angry at something so petty he had a hard time explaining to himself why he was so angry. 

"What?" Ian asked Mickey a week before they were due to move in to their new 'home.'

"What?" Mickey bit back, his finger still stuffed between his teeth.

"You're nervous." It was a statement, not for argument, didn't mean he wasn't gonna get one though. 

"I'm not fucking nervous, fuck off acting like you know me." Mickey started to pace, trying to shoot Ian down with a look.  
The younger boy wasn't all that fazed. 

"Why are you nervous?"

"Will you drop it?"

"No, you do dumb things when you're scared."

"Jesus Christ, i'm done with this shit." Mickey stomped off leaving Ian behind him shaking his head.

The truth is, Mickey was scared, in fact, he was downright petrified, but he wasn't going to tell Ian that, hell no. Moving out to live with Ian was an idea that made him happier than he cared to admit, to himself never mind anyone else but at the same time, if his dad found out who he was moving in with and where he was moving to he was sure to be a dead man, they both would. He knew they'd go to sleep one night and never wake up, Terry was that bad. Mickey didn't want that. He had some semblance of a life to live for now, he knew he didn't have to be in and out of jail for the rest of his life, he wouldn't have to think of a prison cell as 'home' because soon enough he'd have to homes, one to actually live in, and one where a part of his soul would always live, even if he and Ian ended up with nothing somewhere down the line, they'd always find solace in each other. He didn't want this to go wrong, in any way, if it went wrong he was pretty sure he would lose Ian, for good. Okay so the army was out of bounds now but Ian could easily find another guy, someone who'd show him love in more ways than Mickey could. It actually put a lump in the compact boys throat. He knew he'd always be fucked up, he'd never live down that legacy, but he also knew that anyone who got involved with him would end up fucked up too. The irony of the tattoos on his knuckles, he didn't need to use his fists to fuck u-up, no, he just has to know you. 

His thoughts were disturbed by footsteps behind him, it could have only been Ian. 

“What?” Mickey snapped, keeping up the facade to keep Ian out of his thoughts.

“I'm not gonna drop it.”

“Yeah you are because i'm not giving you an answer.” 

Ian had had enough, he put his hand out and grabbed hold of Mickeys shoulder stopping him and turning him around abruptly. 

“Then I find someone else to move in with me.” He stated plainly.

“No, Gallagher, I...”

'It's okay, Mick, I get it.” Ian walked off quickly, not letting Mickey get another word in. Maybe this would be enough to scare him into some form of opening up. Mickey watched him walk for a few seconds, Ian wasn't exactly walking quickly so he didn't get far.

“I'm fucking terrified okay.” Mickey spoke just loud enough for Ian to hear him. Ian stopped walking and spun round.

“Why?”

“If someone finds out, if this shit gets back to my dad, if I fuck up, fuck, I always fuck up.” Mickey couldn't look at Ian, he chewed his lip and watched his feet instead.

“I don't get what's so fucking hard about it. All you gotta do is get a job, keep it and stay outta fucking prison, what's so hard about that?”

“And my dad?” Mickey finally looked up at Ian, his eyes fixed on the redheads.

“He doesn't have to know, no one is gonna tell him shit, jesus Mickey, c'mon.”

“If he find out, we're both dead, a few bruises won't cut it, we're dead. Do you get that.”

“Maybe i'm crazy.” Ian set off walking again, his back to Mickey, quicker this time. Mickey stood and watched him briefly before catching him up.

“Alright.” Mickeys voice was low and quiet.

“Alright?”

“Yeah, alright.”


	6. Game?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian go to their local pub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I decided to split this chapter up... I'm sorry I am going to leave you hanging but it all ends blissfully I swear ; )

The pub was near enough completely empty, it was a Monday night so it was only to be expected; a middle aged couple sat in the corner where the dim lighting didn't reach and two of the local drunks of the area sat at the bar murmuring between themselves, loud belches and laughs drifted through the pub every so often. This pub was different to The Alibi, classier, if a pub could be called classy. It was a place for the young and stylish as much as it was for the old regulars so Mickey and Ian always enjoyed coming. It was a warming atmosphere; the lighting wasn't just there out of necessity but for mood, it was decorated and furnished with style and for comfort, the walls weren't lined with old trinkets but with tasteful photographs.

Tucked away in a corner was a pool table, it was well kept; polished on a regular basis, the green replaced when it got tatty with scratches from careless cues. There was enough room between the walls that made up the corner and the table for one person to stretch out with their cue, bad placement really but it sometimes made games far more interesting. Far more tense. 

The pool table always attracted Mickeys attention. The first time he'd come here with Ian they'd played so many games they hadn't even had time to drink both too wrapped up in the competition even though they weren't so evenly matched. Ian had played hundreds of times before in The Alibi, Mickey, not so much. Ian never made it easy for Mickey, he used the skills he'd developed over the years. Mickey could watch Ians eyes as they planned out exactly where the ball needed to go, they'd move to the cue ball then, figuring out where he needed to hit it and then he'd make his move. Always the best bit, especially when Ian had to stretch, sometimes he'd lay himself out over the wooden frame of the table, on leg keeping him on the ground, the other stretched out behind. That position defined every little detail of his body, Mickey mentally blessed the person who created tight shirts. Sometimes Ian's pants would ride down, or the shirt would ride up when he bent over the table, the skin in the dip in his lower back flawless and smooth, when his pants rode down too far Mickey would growl prompting him to pull them up. Mickey realised that maybe this was the reason he never won, he couldn't concentrate, his mind forming images of the things he could do to Ian over this table, of the things Ian could do to him. The thought made him shiver, they'd never been shy of fucking in public places but they'd always been completely free of people, Mickey was terrified of people being there, but something about this table was different, the thought of being thrown over it and opened up in front of the innocent and awestruck by-standers sent a lascivious thrill down his spine and straight to his dick.

He'd never voiced any of this to the redhead but he was pretty certain he knew, he'd catch Ian watching him when they'd sit in the corner and Mickeys eyes would flick over to the table and he'd shift in his seat. Ian knew exactly what that was. Mickey would see the smug smirk on his face, thinking he was smart for being able to almost read Mickeys mind, it was infuriating. More so because he knew but he never acted on it. Okay, so they couldn't fuck, as such, but there are other ways, there are times when Mickey things he could get off without Ian having to do anything, he'd got hard a few times just from the feel of Ians hand on his back or neck. He was uncontrollable around him. 

“Game?” Ian asked nodding over towards the table, Mickey had been quiet for too long, his eyes zoned out but fixed on the table. They instantly focused on hearing Ians voice.

“You're on, Gallagher.”

Ian laughed breathily

“Ready to show yourself up again, Mick?” He smirked.

“Best of three, I got a good feelin' tonight”

“What? I'll take pity on you and let you win? Not a chance.” Ian grabbed a cue, swiping the calk off the table absent-mindedly watching Mickey set up the table and do the same with his own cue.

“You break.” Ian pointed earning himself a glare from Mickey.

“I'll break this cue over your head if you mock me again” Mickey drawled positioning himself over the table, eyes darting between the stick in his hand and the balls on the other side of the table. He risked a glance at Ian who was watching him intently and then back down to take his shot. He surprised himself potting two red balls. Ians eyebrows had raised, the smirk even more evident that way. 

“Told you I had a good feeling.” Mickey grinned moving around the table to take his well earned next shot. This time he wasn't quite so lucky, The cue ball hit it's mark but not quite hard enough so the ball never quite went in the pocket.

“Fuck.” He groaned. That was it, he'd given up the table, Ian would clean up. 

“Aw, thanks Mickey.” Ian gloated moving round the table and shoving Mickey away. Mickey had made his first shot simple. He stretched over the table at a comfortable angle, his leg bumping into Mickey, it was a simple flick of his cue and the ball sunk. He moved around the table again, preparing for his next shot, a non-brainer, hit hit the ball hard this time, sending it directly in between two balls at the end of the table, splitting them and potting them both. Mickey scowled.

“Going to get a beer, want one?” He asked Ian.

“Sure.” Ian stood up, resting on the cue and waited, it was common courtesy not to take a shot while your opponent wasn't watching, Ian honoured the rule, Mickey probably wouldn't be so gracious. It wasn't long before he came back with two bottles offering one to Ian and taking a swig of his own. Ian followed suit and moved to put his drink down, eyes going back to the table. 

Mickey eyed the bottle in his had noticing it had been in a bucket of ice, dripping with cold water. He grinned, moving over to where Ian was bent over, the movement casual enough that Ian wouldn't suspect. He held the bottle out slightly so it was poised over the exposed skin and waited for Ian to draw back his cue. He tapped the bottle and three drops fell off simultaneously landing on Ians bare flesh.

“Jesus!” Ian shouted, his shot going horribly wrong.

“What the fuck, Mickey?!” 

Mickey struggled to keep a straight face.

“I didn't do anything.” He shrugged.

“Sure you didn't.”

“My turn.” Mickey grinned. He placed his bottle on the table and grabbed his cue.

“Two can play at that game.” Ian mumbled, Mickeys eyes sliding to meet his, a silent warning. Mickey lined up his cue his shot in sight trying not to let the fact that Ian had moved distract him, pulled the cue back, pushed it forward judging the strength of this shot and then he pulled back again ready to take it, the exact moment Ian decided to run his hand down his spine, heat moved down with the pressure of it but also emanated outwards, it made him weak everywhere, the ball missed its target. The hand stayed at the bottom of his back until the shorter man stood up, turning so he was almost pressed against Ian. The smirk was back with a vengeance.

“You wanted to play dirty.”

“You call that dirty?” Mickey quirked an eyebrow. Ian just shook his head and walked away snickering. Mickey could do nothing but stare in awe for the next minute as he watched Ian clean up the table, he bent and stretched himself in all the right places, the shirt clinging to his skin in the most perfect way. As he moved to pot the brown ball his back to the wall, Mickey lost the will to keep quiet about his feelings anymore. His eyes scanned the room quickly just to make sure no one was really concentrating on them; only the couple in the opposite corner remained and they were so wrapped up in each other it was likely they didn't even know Mickey and Ian were there. Mickey sauntered over to where Ian was bent over slotting himself in between the firm ass and the wall, on his tip toes he pushed himself flush with Ians back so that his mouth found the taller man's ear.


End file.
